Good Day Sunshine
by AKJ4
Summary: Response to fanfic challenge with the topic- 'A staff member receives a private letter'.
1. Chapter 1

Good Day Sunshine

Lizzie Hopkirk stepped gingerly down the steps of the bus, thanking the driver, before turning to face the building she knew so well, her second home. She waited for the bus to pull away before crossing the road, smiling at and calling a cheery 'hello' to one of her colleagues, dressed in the familiar blue uniform. She tottered a little unsteadily up the path, her four inch heels hindering her progress slightly, but she'd never do without them. A glance to her left at the doctors car park revealed only the top of Jill Weatherill's blue mini. She assumed the doctor had been called in to an emergency during the night. She frowned as she opened the white doors into the hospital; she hoped it wasn't too serious.

The reception are was still, quiet, probably at that moment the emptiest part of the hospital. But Lizzie knew far too well that in half an hour, the first eager patients would arrive for their appointments with the three doctors. And there would no doubt be a number of screaming children among them. She swore her hearing had worsened since working at The Royal.

She rounded the desk into the area behind reception, passing the table where the doctors frequently met for lunch or coffees, and where she'd learn lots of gossips she'd waste no time in spreading. Her coat was hung up as usual on its hook, and her bag placed under the reception desk. She'd just picked up the morning's post when the telephone rang. "Don't leave me to get myself sorted will you!" She muttered, picked up the receiver and sang a bright "Good morning The Royal." She listened intently, open up the book detailing the doctors appointments for the day and scanned the page. "Well I can send Doctor Goodwin out to you." She listened again then sighed. The patient was requesting 'that lovely Doctor Ormerod'. "I'm sorry but Doctor Ormerod's busy in theatre this afternoon. If it's as urgent as you say it is, you'll have to have Doctor Goodwin. He can see you at two this afternoon." The patient grumbled a few more times before finally agreeing to the young doctor. "Some people!" Lizzie exclaimed in exasperation after settling the receivor back in its cradle. At least, she hoped she'd put the phone down before speaking. She looked at the phone before shrugging. "If she did hear, serves her right!"

"Serves who right, Lizzie?"

"Oh Matron!" Lizzie exclaimed, jumping as Matron appeared without her recognition at her desk. "No one. Just... no one."

"Right..." Matron replied, clearing not believing her. "Any post for me?"

"Oh I've not gotten round to it yet. The phone rang as soon as I came in! And she took so long! Wanted to see Doctor Ormerod you see, wouldn't believe me when I said he was busy. He's anaesthetising for Mr Rose today."

"I see." Matron replied slowly, her eyes narrowing. "So it was a patient you were talking so politely about when I arrived?"

"What?"

"Never mind." The older woman raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Just sort out the post and bring it to me, ASAP."

"Yes Matron." Lizzie nodded, tucking a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. She cleared a space on the desk then placed the post into five piles like usual; one for each of the doctors, one for Matron, and one for Mr Carnegie. However, as she reached the end of the stack, there was one letter that belonged to none of the piles; it was addressed to her. That's strange, she thought. No one ever wrote to her at the hospital. But she placed it aside. Much as she was curious, she didn't fancy being the target for Matron's wrath. She scooped up one of the piles of letters, and made her way down the corridor, she heels clipping a rapid staccato rhythm on the polished floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Humming a soft tune to herself, Lizzie made her way back to reception, teetering every now and then on her heels. She settled herself behind her typewriter, quickly typing up the doctor's lists of surgeries, operations and house calls. She muttered a curse word when she misspelt a patient's name. Another curse left her mouth a few minutes later. She glanced around, sure that Matron would be looming over her to reprimand her. Thankfully, she was alone. She returned her attention to the appointment book, narrowing her eyes in the hope she would be able to better discern her handwriting. Was that Jennifer or Jonathan written there? She shrugged and decided to type them both onto the sheet of paper; Doctor Weatherill would be able to work it out.

No sooner had she whipped the last sheet of paper from the typewriter then Doctor Ormerod entered through the white double doors, looking a little windswept from his journey between his car and the hospital.

"Good morning Doctor O!" Lizzie leapt to her feet, or at least meant to; her mini-skirt and stiletto heels prevented such exuberant movement. "Here's your list." She brandished the freshly typed paper at him. Then she slide his pile of letters across the counter "And here's your letters."

"Thank you Lizzie." He scanned the papers briefly and Lizzie's smile widened when he didn't point out any errors.

"I haven't had a chance to sort your files out yet. I'll bring them to you when I've done that."

"Thank you Lizzie." He repeated, gathering his letters up, glancing up the corridor before turning back to the receptionist. "Have you seen Doctor Weatherill?"

"No, not this morning. Was she called out last night? Only I saw her car in the car park when I arrived this morning you see. It wasn't anything really serious was it?" Her usual sunshine smile disappeared as she contemplated the predicament of some unfortunate person during the night.

Gordon, however, was quick to reassure her. "There was a car accident, but I just spoke to Nurse Davenport outside. She said the patient is stable."

"Oh good." Lizzie sighed, her smiled quickly returning. "Well I'm sure you'll find Doctor Weatherill soon. She'll be around somewhere."

"Quite..." He paused, glanced once more up the corridor. "Anyway, best get on. Those files as soon as you can please Lizzie."

"Right ho doctor!" She nodded, turning towards the filing cabinet as Gordon retreated to his office. Her gazed however was drawn to the single letter on top of the filing cabinet, the letter addressed to her. Her interest was piqued some more but Doctor Ormerod needed his patients' files quickly. Perhaps after she'd done that she'd be able to open her letter.


	3. Chapter 3

Using her appointment book as a reference, Lizzie riffled through the filing cabinets, pulling out files and placing them on the three ever-growing piles on her desk. She conducted the task with surprising speed to anyone who had ever attempted to find anything in her somewhat unique filing system. Lizzie couldn't understand this. To her, her filing system made perfect sense. The practice had 15 patients with the surname Smith. In Lizzie's mind, it made more sense to file each Smith under their first names. The same went for Jonses. Most children were lumped under 'L'; for loud. She wasn't keen on children herself. She could make an exception for the Ormerod children, and Nurse Deane's daughter. But patients' children, and children who were patients themselves, were all, in her experience, loud and misbehaved. And they all seemed to enjoy messing up her reception, earning her an earful from Matron and Mr Carnegie.

Looking down at the appointment book, Lizzie encountered a problem; there were two June Smiths. How was she to know who the appointment was for? She dithered a moment before placing both files on a pile. Once again, Doctor Weatherill would be able to sort it out. This thought made her pause. She only hoped the doctor would be in a good mood; that was two problems she'd given Doctor Weatherill already, and it wasn't even nine o'clock.

Finally, and after several interruptions by patients arriving for their morning appointments, Lizzie finished organising the files. Glancing at the clock, she saw she was just in time; there were only five minutes before morning surgery was due to being. Though when it was supposed to begin, and when it actually did were two different things. And most of the time she got the flak for it.

Hoping for once for a prompt start, she gathered the three piles up into her arms and proceeded towards the first office. She took a deep breath before knocking somewhat awkwardly on the wooden door. The familiar female tones floated through to her, prompting her to open the door to reveal Doctor Weatherill sat at her desk.

"Good morning Lizzie!" The Doctor smiled warmly, causing Lizzie to return a relieved smile. Perhaps she'd get away with the patient mix-ups afterall.

"Good morning Doctor. Here's your patient notes." She awkwardly separated the files in question from her pile and placed them haphazardly on the desk. Doctor Weatherill placed a hand out to steady them before they all tumbled to the floor.

"Thank you Lizzie."

"There is one thing..." The receptionist began, before rapidly spilling forth the details of the Jennifer/Jonathan mix-up and the two June Smiths.

Doctor Weatherill blinked and was silent a moment, as if needing time to process the information given to her, before breaking into a smile. "Well considering Jennifer and Jonathan are names belonging to two different sexes, and one June Smith is 55 and the other is 29, I should be able to work it out."

"Okay Doctor!" She took two wobbling steps towards the door before spinning back around, her blond hair creating a fan around her with the movement. "I almost forgot! Doctor Ormerod was looking for you earlier. Shall I tell him I've found you?"

"Please Lizzie."

She nodded then proceeded out the office, smiling and cheerfully greeting Nurse Davenport leaving at the end of her night shift. She was glad she'd not received the sharp edge of Doctor Weatherill's tongue.

A glance to her right told her the space in front of her reception desk was filling up with patients none too keen on being made to wait for a couple of minutes. She sighed though never lost her smile. She changed direction towards reception; Doctors Ormerod and Goodwin would just have to wait a few minutes later for their notes. And despite the curiosity eating away at her, it seemed she'd have to wait even longer before opening her letter.


	4. Chapter 4

Lizzie sank into her seat with a heavy sigh, reaching down to rub her sore ankles. Hoping Matron wasn't in the vicinity, she slipped off her yellow stilettos. She sighed again, the time at the immediate relief of having her feet free of the straps.

Morning surgery was almost over, much to the relief of Lizzie, Doctor Ormerod and Doctor Weatherill. It had started simply enough, but then Doctor Goodwin had been called out to an emergency, a man stuck under a cow, or something equally as bizarre. The man's predicament meant that Lizzie had to split Jeff's patients between the other two doctors, considerably lengthening morning surgery. Along with that, there had been the usual surge of Monday morning patients claiming they had come down with over the weekend which needed the immediate attention of a doctor. She'd managed to appease some patients with appointments in evening surgery and Tuesday morning surgery. She had no choice but to let the more persistent patients see a doctor that very morning. This, again, had lengthened morning surgery. Needless to say, Lizzie was glad when the last patients were called into Doctors Ormerod and Weatherill's offices, allowing to leave the desk and to rest her sore feet.

She'd brought the mystery letter with her to the table tucked into the corner of room. Seeing that, for the first time that morning, there was noone in reception, she picked it up, curiosity finally getting the better of her. She rarely enjoyed opening her post; most of the letters that came to her home were bills. This letter, having arrived at the hospital, clearly wasn't a bill. It was surely something interesting. A sudden thought brought a smile to her face; perhaps it was from Nev. He'd promised to write during his stay at the commune. Despite realising, after her Uncle Jack had ripped it up, that his book spouted nonsense, she still held a secret soft-spot for him.

Unwilling to wait anymore, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She scanned the handwritten letter, her smile falling slowly from her face to be replaced by crumpled features and glistening eyes. She let the letter fall to the table, her tears falling with it.

"Lizzie." Jill called, walking into reception, her attention focussed on the notes in her hand. "Have you seen- Oh!" Only then did she see Lizzie, sat at the small table in tears. "Lizzie, what is it?"

The receptionist looked up. "Oh Doctor, it's me mum. She's ill. Dad sent me a letter, he's right worried."

"Alright Lizzie." She soothed, seating herself beside her. "What's wrong with her? Did you Dad say?"

"He said it's cav- cavern-." She stuttered before descending once more into sobs.

"May I?" Jill indicated the letter. Lizzie nodded, handing it over. It took the doctor a few moments to scan the letter, the words boldly illustrating Ken's worry. She looked back up at Lizzie once she'd finished, meeting her tear-filled eyes.

"Is it serious Doctor?"

"Cavernous sinus thrombosis can be." She sighed. "It depends how early they caught it." On seeing Lizzie's expression darken further, she hurriedly continued. "Look, let's go to my office, and we'll phone Ken, yes?"

Lizzie nodded gratefully, following in Jill's footsteps. They paused only for Jill to ask Alun to cover reception. Once inside the office, Lizzie reeled off the phone number of Dunporterin Guest House whilst Jill dialled. Holding the receiver to her ear, the doctor heard the familiar dialling tone. She just hoped it would be answered. Thankfully it was, by Ken himself.

"Hello Ken, it's Jill Weatherill here." She paused as he reacted with surprise. "I'm sorry to hear about your wife... I'm just ringing because I have Lizzie here with me. I'm afraid she's in quite a state." She paused once more as Ken expressed concern for his daughter. She hurried to placate him. "She's fine Ken, just worried about her mother. I just wondered if you could tell me anymore about her condition, help me explain things to Lizzie."

Lizzie watched on anxiously as the doctor was silent, her face a picture of concentration as she took in the information given to her.


	5. Chapter 5

Lizzie knocked on the oak door before her, her eyes tracing the intricate woodgrain pattern as she awaited an answer. She entered after hearing a male voice with a Scottish undertone permitting her access. "Mr Carnegie." She said shakily. "I need to ask you something."

The man in question rose, rounding his wide desk quickly and taking Lizzie by the elbow. "Whatever's the matter Lizzie? Sit down."

"Thanks." She whispered, gratefully sinking down into one of the wooden chairs, their deep green padding making much more comfortable and attractive than the garish orange plastic chairs in the doctors' offices. Not that Lizzie herself had ever had much cause to sit in them. "It's me Mum." She finally divulged, glancing up at Mr Carnegie's concerned expression. "She's ill." She then proceeded to relate the details of the letter and the information Jill had gleaned over the phone.

"I'm very sorry to hear that Lizzie. I assume you will want to go down to be with her."

She nodded with trepidation. If Mr Carnegie refused to give her time off, she didn't know what she would do.

"Then you must go. I'll arrange for someone to cover. Your leave will start immediately.

She blinked, taking a moment to process the information, before a small, genuine smile adorned her face. "Oh thank you Mr Carnegie."

"Come on." He rose, offering his arm to her when he had rounded his desk. "We'll get it sorted out now, and then you can go."

"Oh thank you so much." She gushed again, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. She had never expected such an act of kindness from her boss. And she had to admit, it felt odd not being treated like his personal lackey.

Alun was still covering for Lizzie when they arrived in reception. Jack was stood beside him, immediately springing to the filing cabinet, in the pretext of mending it, when Adam came into his line of sight. However, seeing Lizzie on the arm of the hospital receptionist made both porters stop and stare.

"Ah gentlemen!" Mr Carnegie exclaimed as he neared them. "Lizzie had informed me she's told you both about her mother's health."

Jake and Alun nodded, still staring, whilst Lizzie herself took a moment to enjoy the special treatment.

"I'm giving Lizzie some leave, effective immediately. Why don't you go with her Alun? I'm sure Jack here can manage without you for a week or two."

Jack looked affronted, Alun looked stunned and Lizzie looked relieved. "Cheers Mr Carnegie. I'll take good care of her."

"I'm sure you will." Adam smiled. "Send my best to your mother Lizzie." He nodded at them before turning and making his way down the corridor back towards their office.

Jack mumbled something derogatory about Adam, but one look at his princess put a stop to his comments. He knew that she would be better for Alun's support, and for that, he would endure a couple of weeks of actually working and not palming off the labour onto Alun. His back would just have to suffer.

"Lizzie!"

Lizzie and Alun turned, halfway out the door of the hospital to see Jill walking towards them. "I just wanted to catch you before you went Lizzie. Take care, and if you need anything, just ring me okay? And Gordon and I already have a holiday booked in Dunporterin in a couple of weeks time, so we'll see you then. And you Alun"

"Thank you doctor." She smiled, touched by the kindness all her colleagues had shown her.


	6. Chapter 6

"So how bad is it? This Cavernous whatsit?"

Lizzie drew her gaze from the window out of which she'd been watching the Yorkshire countryside fly past. "Doctor Weatherill says it sounds like they've caught it early enough. She says me mum should be fine."

"And what if they haven't?" Alun voiced the question neither wanted to hear.

For a few moments, the only sound within the small compartment of the vehicle was the sound of the train's wheels covering the vast length of the tracks. Eventually, Lizzie sighed and turned to Alun, tears in her eyes. "Doctor Weatherill says she might go blind."

"Oh Lizzie." He breathed, reaching over and covering her hand with his own. "I'm sure Doc Weatherill's right. You shouldn't worry."

"I know." She sniffed, smiling a little as she took the handkerchief Alun offered her. He looked rather bashful about the gesture.

"Hey." Alun said suddenly after a few minutes, attempting to cheer Lizzie up. "What about Mr Carnegie. I can't believe he gave us both all this time off!"

"I know! Me Dad'll never believe it. He never liked him."

"Yeah well, Mr Middleditch let Ken get away with _loads_ of stuff. Your Dad only dislikes Carnegie because he had to do his job and stop making me do all the work... Perhaps Carnegie's not so bad afterall!"

The receptionist scowled at him, but to his relief, she broke out into a smile.

"And what about you walking into reception on his arm. I think someone fancies you!"

"Shove off!" She squealed, slapping his arm, though both quickly dissolved into laughter.

As the laughter faded, the pair became silent again, both gazing contemplatively out of the window, wondering what was to greet them in Torquay. Outside, their surroundings changed from land marked with the labour of agriculture, to a more urbanised landscape; buildings became more frequent a feature until little green could be seen. This thus heralded their entrance into the city of York.


	7. Chapter 7

The train journey had passed uneventfully. Both Lizzie and Alun spent much of the time dozing; their arrival into Torquay seemed to occur in very little time. Together they walked through the streets, now becoming more familiar to Lizzie. She carried two of her suitcases. Alun carried his own sole suitcase, plus her vanity case. This prompted much scowling from Alun; carrying around a bright red girl's case, what would people think? The walk proved to be short, much to the relief of Alun who hadn't had his reputation too much damaged. And they arrived at the four storey guest house, set on the sea front; 'beautiful sea views' as the brochure said. Lizzie still had a key to the door and they entered. The cleaner they met in the hallway recognised Lizzie and informed her Ken was at the hospital.

"It's a decent sized placed is this!"

"Me Gran had a fair bit of money." It was obvious that Alun wasn't interested in her explanation as a gasp of amazement was uttered from her right.

"Cor! Look at this!" Alun had strayed to the reception desk, spying a gleaming electric guitar in the corner. "Hey, I didn't know Ken was into rock 'n' roll."

"Don't be daft. It was me Gran's."

"What? Your Gran was into rock 'n' roll."

"Nooooo." She tutted, rolling her eyes. "Some guy gave it to her. I don't know. Anyway, Dad was thinking of giving it t' you."

"Really?" He exhaled in a whistle, approaching it slowly as it might take fright and escape.

"Don't gawp." She nudged him.

"Sorry." He muttered, obviously distracted and proceeded to, well, gawp. The strap was slipped around his head, the neck in the left hand. He proceeded to strum. The sound produced a wince from him; it was obviously out of tune. He began to fiddle with the tuning keys, plucking each string every so often as Lizzie continued.

"Hey, but don't say ought. Knowing me Dad he'll have tried to flog it by now."

She tilted her head, indicating he should follow her further into the guesthouse, ignoring his down crest expression. Despite herself, she smiled as she heard the strums of the now in tune guitar following her through the rooms; it was obvious he was in his element.

The final room they entered on the ground floor was the dining room. She looked around the room and turned and pulled a face at Alun. "Look at this wallpaper, and those chairs." She spun around, an expression of disgust settling on her features as she caught sight of a picture above the fireplace. "It looks like I got here just in time."

"What do you mean?" Alun frowned. "It looks alright to me."

"Alright? It's exactly how their house was before I moved back in. It's so… Old fashioned!"

He pulled a face; he'd much preferred Lizzie's house before she'd turned it dizzyingly psychedelic. As Frankie had said; 'who needs to take drugs when you can look at something like that'.


	8. Chapter 8

Lizzie had shown Alun round the rest of the guesthouse, pointing out various pieces of – in her eyes- old fashioned décor as they went. He strummed the guitar as he went, obviously happy with his newly discovered treasure. When her parents took the guesthouse over, Lizzie had had a short stint at working there before she returned to The Royal from her leave. She outlined her duties to Alun as they traversed the building. Her main job had been as a receptionist. At first she had enjoyed the slower pace, but soon she began to miss the variety at the hospital. Her parents were no good to gossip with, and the number of guests passing through were not near as many as the stream she had to deal with at The Royal. They completed the tour and ended up in the small hallway which doubled as the hotel's reception, just as the front door opened.

"Hello princess." Ken Hopkirk held out his arms, into which Lizzie ran, despite her high heels wobbling on the thick carpet.

"Oh Dad!" She sobbed into his chest.

"Hey, come on." He rubbed her back, pained at hearing his daughter so upset. "It's alright. I've just come from the hospital. The doctors said they're hopeful."

Alun, not entirely comfortable with being party to such an emotional reunion, retreated into the hotel's dining room. He could greet Ken later.

"Is she going to go blind?"

"It's still touch and go they said, but she seems to be getting better. She's tough is your Mum. She'll be back here bossing me around before we know it." As the sounds of stumming filtered through to them, Ken pulled back. "I hear Alun's found that guitar."

"I think he's fallen in love." Lizzie managed a laugh, wiping her eyes on her Dad's handkerchief and allowing him to lead him into the dining room.

"All this needs is an amp and it'll be perfect!" He exclaimed, strumming a few more chords, humming The Rolling Stones' 'Paint it Black'.

"Hey." Ken nudged his daughter. "I don't know how anyone can call this music though." He winked at Lizzie and laughed heartily when Alun scowled at him.


End file.
